


The Perks of Self-Employment

by days4daisy



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Extra Treat, M/M, Season/Series 03
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-22 02:33:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9578630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/days4daisy/pseuds/days4daisy
Summary: The bottle is down to quarter-full, and Jim Gordon's thoughts are turning south.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [falsteloj](https://archiveofourown.org/users/falsteloj/gifts).



> A little treat for you, Starrrz, from a fellow Harvey/Jim lover :) Takes place around the time of 3x01.

The bottle is down to quarter-full, and Jim Gordon's thoughts are turning south. He knows better than to drown this hard. Active Cop or not, he has to watch his back in this town. Still, being off the Force is nice. After a binge, he can wake up at whatever the hell time he wants. Unlike Harvey. 

Harvey’s still here, red in the face, trying the same old hook and line. “You make more coin as a solo act, I get it. But you’re selling out your morals, Jim. I _know_ you, you can’t be cool with that.” Harvey’s words are a slurred mess, and he’s barely staying on his feet. It's funny; back in the day, Harvey was happy enough half-assing a corner beat with a box of doughnuts on the dash. Now, he's going on about morality.

Harvey was off the Force once too. Sober. Engaged. Got his own business. Found some peace. Jim talked him back into the GCPD. One more thing he got wrong.

“Don’cha miss the badge, Jim?” Harvey sounds wistful. He knocks his shin on the coffee table, and a slosh of whiskey spills out. Jim is tempted to drag a finger through the wet spot and lick it clean. Maybe Harvey will want to watch.

Dangerous thoughts.

“You miss me that much, huh?” Jim kicks his legs out in front of himself, purposefully wide. 

“Hell yeah, I miss ya!” Harvey tries to emphasize the words with his glass. He only succeeds in spilling more booze. 

Jim glances at the drops on his floor. It’s an excuse to drag his gaze back up the long way. He starts at Harvey’s scuffed brown shoes. Up too-big trousers to his shirt, tucked over a stomach that's puffed up a few notches this year. To a chest covered by a brown leather jacket. To the tie knotted loose at his neck. Graying beard in need of a shave. Hair hanging long under his hat.

“I mean, who the hell’m I supposed to talk to now? _Alvarez_?” Harvey snorts. “You gotta come back, Jim. We need you.” He knocks his head back when he drinks. 

Jim can think of a few of things he needs right now, but none are being back in the GCPD. Harvey sounds so pitiful, though. Jim lolls his head to the side and pretends to think about it.

It would be so easy to grab Harvey by the belt right now. Yank him off balance, get all that weight in his lap.

Jim was fine keeping this stupid thing from Harvey day-in and day-out at the precinct. Just a schoolkid crush. Heat of the moment bullshit. Jim went home to Lee every night. Harvey had a fiancee. They were both spoken for, end of story.

Now, they’re not. Now, Harvey’s desperate, and Jim is pissed off and alone. And drunk. Very drunk. 

Jim drains his glass and drops it on the coffee table. He has to rock forward on the sofa to do it, catching himself just before he goes face-first into good places. He lingers a second too long, nose an inch from Harvey’s crotch. 

He grins as he tips back. Harvey’s gaze is hopeful. Poor guy. “No one gives a crap that I’m gone except you,” Jim states. “They’re better off, and I’m better off. Give it a few months. You won't miss me dragging you around all the time.”

Harvey shakes his head emphatically. “If you’re not back in a few months, this city’s going to the dogs. You’re the best we got, Jim.”

Jim's smile turns wry. “Can’t be the best you got if I’m not there.”

“Jim.” Harvey braces a hand on Jim’s shoulder. It’s heavy, steadying his own liquor-soaked weight. 

Harvey smells _great_. Everything else on Harvey is over a decade too old, but he’s always got the latest and greatest cologne. Classic, with a hint of something Jim wants, right now. Not good. Jim is turning into senses above sense. He can practically _feel_ how warm Harvey will be under his hands. He’s radiating heat, liquor on his breath.

“Come on, Jim,” Harvey tries again. 

Jim wonders if Harvey would say this mid-fuck. _Come on, Jim_. His tongue sweeps restlessly across his lip. This, Harvey notices. A quick slant of eyes, creased in confusion. It should be Jim’s cue to back off.

“The problem is, you miss me,” Jim says. “You're even dropping in to lecture me now.”

“I’m not lecturing you, Jim!” Harvey's tie dangles on Jim’s stomach.

“You’re lecturing,” Jim counters. “And I’m still not coming back. But,” he plays with the point of Harvey’s tie. “I’m glad you stopped by.”

“What’re you glad for?” Harvey sounds suspicious. Probably doesn’t help that Jim has his tie wrapped around his fist now. 

Jim yanks hard. Harvey’s “shit!” whistles between clenched teeth. His weight is thick on Jim’s chest.

Jim is already groaning before he puzzles his way to Harvey’s mouth. He overshoots on the first try; gets beard before Harvey's lips. It's not a bad mistake. Jim is into the beard. And the hair. And the body. The smell. The taste. Jim is like a virgin. Already rocking forward, arousal tight in his gray jeans.

“What the hell, Jim?” Harvey sputters. He sounds confused. And a little out of breath. He must notice the flush on Jim’s face. The stirring under his jeans. The hands Jim is shoving under his jacket.

“You should fuck me,” Jim says.

“I should…” Harvey trails off. “Jesus, how drunk _are_ you?”

“Pretty damn drunk,” Jim concedes. He gets Harvey’s jacket off and goes to work on his tie. Tie knots are the worst when a guy's not sober. 

“You’re not thinking straight,” Harvey decides, but he makes zero move to get up. No homophobic knocks or shiners left by a fist to the face. Promising.

Jim snorts. “Course I’m not thinking straight. I just said you should fuck me.” He doesn’t wait for the joke to sink in, hissing his frustration at Harvey’s tie. “Damn it-”

“You don’t want me to fuck you,” Harvey says, more forceful. 

Jim rolls his eyes. Like Harvey knows anything. Harvey also thinks Jim should be back at the GCPD!

He finally gets Harvey's tie off. His hands ball in Harvey’s shirt, mouth on his throat. Harvey’s beard is rough under his lips. His teeth graze skin, earning a yelp. “Easy, partner." Harvey grits. "Work day tomorrow.”

“Not for me.” Jim grins against his jaw. The smile widens when Harvey grabs his chin and forces his head up. He’s got a rough, calloused grip. Makes Jim’s pulse throb hotter.

“You don’t want me to fuck you.” Harvey doesn't sound sure anymore, eyes glazed and doubtful.

Jim sits up to kiss him. His fingers thread into Harvey’s hair, knocking the hat from his head. It hits the ground with a dull thump. Harvey sinks heavier on him in surprise. 

“Shit,” Harvey breathes. His voice has a new, raspy texture that Jim decides he likes. “Bed?” he suggests, when he can catches his breath. “No damn way we fit here.”

Jim wants to push the issue, for the sake of argument. But as soon as Harvey says ‘bed,’ his mind flies off to better places. “Yeah,” he agrees. “Finish your drink.” He glowers at what’s left of Harvey's whiskey. 

Harvey raises a bemused brow. “That your perk to being off the Force?” he jokes. “Get to give your own orders now?” But he tips back the contents of his glass before he stands. His Adam's apple bobs heavily, and Jim loses track of his thoughts.

Harvey, following his orders, huh? Jim could learn to like self-employment.

*The End*


End file.
